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Soundtrack of Life

I've been spending a lot of time in my car over the last few months. Okay, let's be honest, the last 2 years. If I'm not running around town for errands, I'm more than likely on the road to the University Center or up until recent months, headed to a graduate class or workshop, or out with Cheney. I pretty much am not home 4 out of the 5 weekday evenings. With that being said, I spend a lot of time listening to the radio. It's my companion in the car, and if I am feeling like an adult (which happens very rarely), I may even talk out loud when listening to talk radio or a broadcast of the recent politico in which we live(which happens even rarer).But realistically, I am probably singing at the top of my lungs to Britney Spears' "Womanizer" (you may even hear it if my phone accidentally calls you). When you move around, the radio often becomes a friend because it is constant and you don't have to worry about first impressions or meeting someone new and striving to build a lasting friendship. The radio is there the moment you turn the key - hopefully, unless there are alternator issues. Anyhoo, while living in Juneau, there wasn't much choice for good radio. Seattle was well equipped to handle diverese tastes. Afterall, it was the birthplace of Jimmy Hendrix, Kirk Cobain, and Pearl Jam. Moving to Baton Rouge, I was introduced to my favorite morning show - the Kid Kraddick morning show on 102.5. It was actually housed out of Dallas, but I often found my self laughing so hard I had tears in my eyes. What a way to start the day. Now, here in Greenville, I find the music community is lacking a great radio station for those of us who do not subscribe to XM satellite radio. My morning commute is all of 5 minutes, but I've found myself listening to B93.7 with the Hawk and Tom show in the morning. It's the best station that I have found to play a combination of music, but it's started leaning more toward the Hip Hop music when what I'd really like is more Pink!, Fall Out Boy, Plain White Tees, Foo Fighters, and the like.

Music has always been an important part of my life and I can't imagine going a day without hearing it, even if it is in the background. I find myself singing songs that were important during my life when I least expect it. My mom had a huge 8 track stereo that we would listen to from time to time growing up. I only remember 2 songs, but they are great - "Crocodile Rock" by Elton John and "ABC 123" by the Jackson 5. My passage from elementary school to junior high was played out to the tune of "Let's Go All The Way" which was performed by Jason Frizell, Walker Lidell, Dallas Montgomery, and someone else whose name escapes me at the 5th grade talent show. When I took piano, I remember Momma having the sheet music for "Joy to the World" by Three Dog Night and I wanted to learn to play that song so bad. 8th grade was to the tune of "Walk Like An Egyptian" - still an all time favorite. Garth Brooks' "Friends in Low Places" and the rest of that album were a constant during high school as well as Reba McEntire. My senior year - "Baby Got Back" by Sir Mix Alot - hate to admit it, but I knew all of the words - still know most of them. Young love was "Brown Eyed Girl" by Van Morrison, "Have I Told You Lately" by Rod Stewart, and "Mr. Jones" by Counting Crows. Songs that remind me of times with my husband - getting a ticket in Mississippi as we drove home from Louisiana while "In the Jungle" blared and we were singing at the top of our lungs and "Sweet Escape" causing fits of laughter as we tried to match A-kon's ooo-eee's.

Music ministers to my soul and provides stress relief, hope, comfort, and healing. When we lost the baby in 2006, on the way home from school after I received the phone call from the doctor, one song played that will forever be ingrained in my being. This one song has ministered to me over and over again - 3 years later - "I Will Praise You In This Storm" by Casting Crowns. The timing was impeccable in the car alone not wanting to speak with anyone and it continues to be when the pain is still there.

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"Praise you in this storm" was the song that helped us stay focused during Ali's NICU stay. Another I find ministers to me is "Love them like Jesus" also by Casting Crowns. It reminds me how to care for others who are hurting - there is really only one thing we can do.

I'm living in a house that was purchased in 1960 and had one owner. When we moved in, it was full of a life that was lived.

Since we've moved into it, we have spent hours sorting through vacation souvenirs, family photos, handmade clothes, kitchen supplies, closets full of linens and the likes.

Through this "cleaning" we have noticed how the person who lived here tried her best to keep her home in the best shape possible, even when she wasn't able. Tonight as we cleaned the master bedroom in preparation to rip the carpet up and paint the walls, we discovered mini-blinds that were taped together with kleenex to block the light out and chipped paint held in place from the places it was falling by scotch tape. While it is a nuisance to remove from the walls, the scotch tape struck a chord with me and immediately saddened me upon its sight.

Here was a precious woman holding together something she found precious with scotch tape. It immediately led me to think …

The paintings of Monet have always inspired me - the strokes that appear random upon close inspection of a canvas takes on a different appearance the further away you position yourself from the piece. Slowly images begin to appear and make sense to the observer. The strokes that appeared sloppily orchestrated up close or even appeared as possible mistakes, now create the delicate petals of water lilies on the surface of a pond. Instead of images becoming clearer the closer you step, focus appears as you take in the entire masterpiece.

I've been contemplating the large masterpiece of my life recently. For so long I've been focused on the individual brushstrokes that don't make sense. I can't piece them together. The blues, pinks, and purples that are smeared across the canvas - the heartache, the challenges, the questions, the difficulties - I can't see the entire canvas, yet. But, I know who does. The one who knows the very number of the hairs on my head.